Memory of Loss When I met you back then You spoke in poems, Concise parables of thought that Fell like pearls from your lips. You said, "Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I But when the treetop's bending The wind is passing by" And so I knew you were speaking of Passing things, visible and invisible You said, "If I am not for myself, Who is for me? And if I am not for myself Where will I be?" Then I knew you were speaking of Your own passage You said, "If I should meet thee After long years How should I greet thee? In silence and tears" And then I knew you were going on a long journey And I didn't know when you'd return So I live now in the hour of the fox Chasing the long spaces between the moments. I feel your absence, lengthened Donna Fox